


Amity

by sweeterthanstrawberries



Series: Amity [1]
Category: The Witcher, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Geralt of Rivia x reader - Freeform, Geralt of Rivia x you - Freeform, Geralt of Rivia/reader - Freeform, Geralt of Rivia/you - Freeform, Geralt x reader - Freeform, Geralt x you, Geralt/reader - Freeform, Geralt/you - Freeform, The Witcher - Freeform, The Witcher x reader - Freeform, The Witcher x you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthanstrawberries/pseuds/sweeterthanstrawberries
Summary: You find company and comfort in an unexpected friend.
Relationships: Geralt x reader
Series: Amity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686451
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

You wander into the party, acknowledging your parents with a nod and smile. They are busy greeting a long line of attendees, eager to get a word in with the King and Queen. You are not one for parties, enjoying the company of few rather than many. Still, parties are a necessary evil in court life, so you attend nonetheless. Tucking yourself in a corner, you nurse a glass of water and a bowl of fruit. You happily watch everyone dancing and talking from your secluded spot to the side.

Scanning the crowd for new faces, your eyes land on a tall, beefy man. You immediately recognize him with his white hair and amber eyes. A witcher. A small glimmer of excitement and curiosity ignites in your stomach, but you quickly suppress the feeling and turn back to the fruit in your hand.

As the night progresses, you can't help but regard the crowd of partiers, looking for the Witcher. Distracted by your search, you don't notice someone sitting next to you. You glance to your left and find him on the bench, looking over the crowd as you were. You watch him for a second, but eventually turn away, hoping you weren't caught staring. Neither of you say anything, content in silence.

Watching the dancers, you smile to yourself. You casually listen to the chatter of nobles around you, enjoying the commotion without having to participate.

"Not one for parties?" a gruff voice chides from beside you. Turning to face the man, you smile and shake your head.

"No, can't say that I love talking to people who only boast of their wealth," you say with a slight laugh. He hums in agreement but does not continue the conversation any further. You feel a little disappointed that it was so short lived, but you understand his desire for comfortable silence better than most.The two of you continue your still observations of the crowd, occasionally glancing to the other with soft smiles.

Later that night, you watch your father approach your table. He has a grin upon his face, meaning that he wants more than just a simple hello.

"Y/N, my dear," he says joyously, reaching for your hand. "Would you do me the honor in gracing us with a performance?"

"Oh Father, no thank you. I am more than happy listening to the wonderful bard you hired for the night," you urge, trying to escape the attention he planned on drawing to you.

"I insist," your father says, seemingly ending the conversation. You nod and stand from your place on the bench, giving a meek smile to the Witcher watching the scene unfold.

You slink over to the pianoforte and begin to play. You choose a ballad you are familiar with, letting the words flow through your lips. Your voice quiets the chatter in the hall. All eyes rest on your form at the instrument, creating beautiful music with your fingers. You sing the melody softly at first, volume growing at the chorus. The ballad is about the nightingale that sings at the window of two lovers in the countryside. The song is beautiful and one of your favorites.

The hush that had fallen over the crowd is broken by applause. You stand from the bench, give a slight curtsy and bow of your head. You smile and walk back to your place in the corner, eyes locking with the Witcher. People stop you, offering compliments on your performance. You graciously accept their praise, continuing on your path to your seat.

Geralt is awed by you. He marvels at your talent and quiet demeanor. He watches as you cordially bow your head at the compliments being thrown at you by surrounding nobles. You are humble, yet confident, and Geralt is enthralled.

Sitting down with a slight huff, you grab the glass of water you have been sipping from most of the night.

"You have a beautiful voice, princess," comments the Witcher. You smile and meet his eyes.

"Thank you," you reply simply. A calm washes over you for a minute, but the lull does not last long. "Would you like to go for a walk?" you ask abruptly.

He cocks his head to the side before responding in agreement. Together, you walk out the back door, leading to the gardens.

"I never asked your name," he mentions, almost tentatively. Your look to him out of the corner of your eye.

"Y/N," you reply, reaching out to touch the soft leaves of the hydrangea you walk past.

"Geralt," the Witcher voices from beside you. He watches you intently, curiosity stirring in the back of his mind. "You sing beautifully."

You bow your head at his comment, whispering your thanks. "I do not care much for performing, but it is hard to refuse my father's wishes," you explain, turning to face him fully, finding him already watching you. He hums, the sound resonating from his chest to yours, deep and enticing. You turn and begin walking again, telling him more as you continue. "I have been playing and singing since I was a child. I found comfort in it," you sigh, "It was something I could always do better than my brothers."

He chuckles lowly, and you can't help but join him. You are amazed by the ease in which you speak with him. He does not pry, and you mean to do the same for him.

"One of my older brothers sings, but he does not care for performing. Well, less than me, I guess," you add.

"Are you close with your brothers?" he asks. He enjoys listening to your voice, finding it kind and pleasing to listen to.

"Not as close as I would wish," a pause, "but close enough to find happiness in spending time with them. They are often so busy with school and princely duties that I am sometimes neglected. I do not take offense, though. I know they are busy."

He nods as we circle back to the door to the castle. Before we enter the hall again, you turn to face Geralt, glancing over his striking features. You wonder at how a man this stunning could exist. His eyes the color or molten amber, hair as silver as polished platters. His nose is straight and masculine. Heat rises in your cheeks as you realize how long you have been staring without saying anything. You tear your eyes away from him, your gaze finding your fiddling hands.

"Thank you, Geralt," you express in a quiet voice. "You have made tonight much more enjoyable than I expected."

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "The same for you," he responds with a nod.

Together you walk back into the hall where you wish your parents goodnight before slipping into the hallway, stealing one more glance to the Witcher.


	2. Chapter 2

You have always found comfort in the quiet stables of the castle. People only come through to leave, so it frequently serves as an escape from the world of nobility and etiquette. You enjoy watching the horses swish their tails and flip their manes. You whisper secrets to the mares that only whinny at your confessions. Today, you tell them that you dreamt of the Witcher last night.

Almost as if he had heard you talking about him, Geralt enters the stables. He immediately finds his own horse, stroking its nose gently before turning to you.

"Princess," he says, voice echoing through the stalls. 

"Geralt," you reply in greeting.

You watch him brush the neck of his horse with his hand, checking the water level in the trough.

"What are you doing in the stables?" he inquires, aware of the fact that you were talking to the horses.

"Nothing," you sigh, "I just come in here to talk to the horses. They are great company. Never asking questions or invading my privacy," you say in a sing-song voice.

He hums and tells you that he too talks to his horse. Roach, he calls it. You smile as you watch him lovingly tend to his horse.

"Do you ride?" he asks, glancing to you feeding a particularly beautiful black mare.

"I do," you nod, "Would you like to go for a ride?" He can tell that you are speaking to the horse, but he hums in agreement anyway, earning a slight laugh from you.

He pulls Roach out of his stall, adjusts his saddle, and swings swiftly over the back of his steed. You climb atop your horse, sitting as you are supposed to, side saddle. You peer over to Geralt who is following your movements from his perch on Roach. You wonder at how much he cares for propriety and decide that it is most likely very little. You keep your skirts tucked between your legs and pivot over the back of the horse so you are riding as the men do. Geralt smirks and chuckles at your action.

"It is not fair that men get to ride comfortably, and I don't," you reason, earning a heartier laugh from Geralt.

The two of you ride out of the stables and into the countryside that surrounds the castle. You talk a little but mostly just enjoy being in each other's company. After some time, you come across a small lake.

"My brothers and I used to swim here nearly every day in the summers," you smile, memories of sunburns and wet rides back to the castle flash through you mind as you gaze over the lake.

"Would you like to swim?" he proposes with slight mischief in his tone.

"I shouldn't," you whisper, trying to convince yourself that it is a bad idea. He watches your internal battle, and smiles when he sees the victor. You get down from your horse and begin to untie your shoes. Geralt gracefully dismounts and grabs the reigns of both Roach and the mare you were riding. He leads the horses to the water and stands by them until you call out to him.

"Geralt, can you come help me?" you ask sheepishly. "I can't get the laces undone."

He hesitantly leaves the horses and walks over to you struggling to untie the knots keeping your dress in place. You glance up at him, all innocence, and turn around, pulling your hair to the side to give him full access. He nimbly works the laces out of the eyes of the fabric, fingers ghosting over your shift covering your back. He pushes the dress over your shoulders, noticing the subtle shiver running up your spine as he does so. You push the dress over your hips, leaving you in naught but your thin small clothes.

You throw a smile over your shoulder before wading into the water. Geralt quickly tugs his shirt and shoes off before joining you in the lake. The water is cool and refreshing and soothes the heat drawn to your face by his touch. You turn to find him up to his hips in the lake and take a moment to admire his beauty. His body is thick chords of muscle that seemingly strain against his skin. His body is littered with scars, but you do not ask him about them. The memories tied to them must be bitter and painful.

You walk into the lake until the water covers your shoulders. You tilt your head back, enjoying the feeling of the water in your hair. His eyes follow your form in the water, entranced by your movements. He wonders how he ever came across such a woman. You do not ask anything of him. You aren't trying to seduce him into your bed. You aren't asking him about his scars or how he got them. You just want to be with him for the sake of company and friendship. You are as lonely as he is.

The two of you swim the rest of the afternoon. You exit the lake, streams of water dripping from your shift when you stand up on the bank. He withdraws from the water to help you step back into your dress. He ties the laces up in the same manner as he undid them. You are amazed at the gentleness of his hands and actions. He has only been kind to you in every word he has spoken.

Saddling up on your horse again, you make the trip back to the castle. Your wet hair leaves a ring of water on your shoulders, but you do not care. Geralt sees you all the way back to your room.

"Thank you, Geralt," you say, placing yourself between your door and his broad chest. "For everything."

"It was a pleasure, princess," he replies cordially.

"Y/N," you assert.

He repeats your name, his voice low and soft.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" you ask quietly. 

"Only if you would like," he nods once, eyes tracing over your features, looking for hesitation or reluctance, but finding only kindness and eagerness.

"The stables?" you suggest. He hums in agreement, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile. You reciprocate before turning to open the door. You slip into your room, glancing over your shoulder one last time to smile at Geralt, whispering a quiet goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

You wake up the next morning, excited to spend more time with Geralt. He has only treated you as a friend, leading you to believe that he enjoys your company as much as you value his. You can barely think about anything else until you make your way to the stables.

He is already tending to his horse when you enter, your stomach fluttering with anticipation. He smiles kindly at you, nodding in greeting. You grin in return.

"Hello Geralt," you say cheerily.

"Princess," he responds.

"I thought I told you to call me Y/N," you retort with a little teasing in your tone. He once again nods his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I was thinking of walking today," you suggest. He hums in agreement and the two of you set out.

You walk in silence for a minute, content in enjoying each other's company for the time being. You walk past the garden and out into the countryside that is considered the property of your father. Similar to the walk you took on his first night at the castle, Geralt begins to ask you questions.

"Y/N, do you enjoy your life as a princess?" he asks. His tone is not accusatory but rather curious.

"I have always appreciated my life here. I love my family. I love the food," you pause, "but I feel that I am not doing enough." He looks at you and sees your eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, seemingly holding back words on your tongue.

"Like your talents aren't benefiting the right people," Geralt adds tentatively.

"Yes, and I don't know. I'm never helping anyone beyond the court. I don't know what goes on in town, and I wish I did. I want to do more than just perform at the occasional party. I want to help people," you explain. He nods in understanding, not adding anything else in comment.

The two of you walk into a grove of trees, and you take a seat at the base of an old looking oak tree, the roots protruding out of the ground. You watch him settle on a root across from you, his large form having to scrunch to be able sit awkwardly. You can't help the slight laugh that escapes you at the sight of his hulking body trying to find a comfortable position. He eventually gives up and flashes you a sheepish, lopsided smile.

You ponder the words that want to spring out of your mouth next. The curious half of your brain desperately wants you to ask him, but the reasonable half struggles to rein in the question that threatens to tumble from your lips. You throw caution to the wind and let the words escape.

"Geralt have you ever been in love?" you look at him intently, wanting to catch everything that flits across his face as he digests your question and tries to think of an answer. At first, he wants to lie and say no. But he can't bring himself to tell you a falsehood, respecting the friendship that has been blooming between the two of you.

"Yes," is all he says. He stops, and you see that he doesn't want to continue. His eyes are trained on the ground, clouding over with memory. You don't ask anything else of him before you begin to tell him things that you have never told anyone else before.

"I have never-," you start. His eyes dart to find yours focused on the roots in the dirt, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. "I've never loved anyone like that."

A beat of quiet settles over you. He can see that you are saddened by your words. He lets you continue, "I didn't have teenage crushes or summer flings with the servant from the kitchen." He watches you let out a deep breath. "And I can't help but wonder if it's something that I did, or didn't do. Or who I am. Or who I'm not."

You look to him sitting quietly, intently listening. You finish, "But I'm not bothered by it. A part of me always felt that I was missing out on something, but I know that when someone comes along, they will want me for who I am. Hopefully, at least." You smile weakly, trying to convince yourself of the truthfulness of your words. Geralt listens in silence, nodding. "Thank you, Geralt. For listening."

He hums. Then says, "I wish you every happiness as you look for someone to love." His face is soft, and the words are heartfelt. His tone is genuine and full of kindness. "The woman I loved," he stops, "she was beautiful. And powerful," his voice is so hushed, the words are barely heard.

It is your turn to hum. "Do you think about her?"

"No. Not very often," he answers. "It was a very long time ago."

You talk on the roots of the gnarly oak tree until your stomach starts to rumble, telling both you and Geralt that it is time to return to the castle. When the castle walls are in sight, he turns to you and grabs your wrist.

"I leave tomorrow."

Your eyes flick down in disappointment, but you do not show it for long. You look up to see his beautiful amber eyes and handsome scar-littered face.

"I will miss your company," you say, your tone somber.

"As I will miss yours," he replies in a voice matching yours. "Come visit me before I leave in the morning?"

You can only nod in response, knowing your voice would come out thin and shaky. He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. You press your cheek into the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath. You feel his lips in your hair, giving you a light kiss. "Thank you," he whispers before he breaks away and walks you to the castle doors.


	4. Chapter 4

Years have passed, and the memory of Geralt and his kindness appear and then vanish like smoke in the night sky. You are still the same princess you were, but you grow more lonely and restless with each season.

In the castle, small children run around your ankles, chasing each other through the halls. Your brothers have since married and had children, stirring feelings of sadness and longing to settle down within you, but something tells you that you are destined for more.

Your father has offered to find you a husband, but respects your decisions to decline each time. You aren’t ready. In your heart of hearts, you want Geralt to come back and take you away. The realistic side of you begs to let it go, knowing that you will never set eyes on the handsome, silver-haired man again.

Leading your horse out of the stables, you set off for an afternoon ride through the grounds. Sometimes, you retrace the paths you rode with Geralt, hoping to find him again among the trees. It makes you more sad than it should that he will never know the depth of your feelings for him. In the few days you knew him, you felt more understood than you had before or have since.

The thoughts bouncing around your head leave you distracted and unaware of the broad shouldered stranger walking beside his horse on the path. You don’t notice him until he calls out your name.

Your head whips to see that it is Geralt, walking among the trees. Immediately, you dismount and rush to his side. Hesitating for only a moment, you throw your arms around his neck, enveloping him in a hug you thought would only happen in your dreams. You feel his arms encircle you back, breath hitching in his throat.

“Is it really you?” you question softly, almost like if you spoke too loud, he would disappear. 

“Yes, Princess. It’s me,” he says with mirth in voice, teasing.

“Would you like to go for a ride?” you ask with a smile.

Geralt hums and moves to get on his horse as you do. You talk as you ride, asking light questions, telling brief stories. Even though years have passed, you still speak with the same ease and understanding as before.

When you get to the stables, you guide your horse back in its stall and watch Geralt do the same. He looks the same age, but he has a few more scars, tugging your heart in unease. You know he lives a dangerous life, and those markings prove it.

Out of the silence, Geralt says gently, “Y/N, I’ve thought about you often.”

You turn to face him, his deep amber eyes roaming your features for any signs of rejection or hesitation. His comment takes you aback for a second before you step forward and whisper, “Not as much as I have about you.”

A quiet settles, the two of you a foot apart. Geralt watches you take a deep breath, smiling at him, happy to be in his presence again. Neither of you want to disrupt the calm, but you do by reaching out to trace a new scar that stretches across his forehead. He closes his eyes at your touch. 

A shaky exhale, and his lips are on yours. Slow, deep, spilling over with longing. Patience that has grown thin drives the kiss until you pull away, mesmerized by him. You open your eyes, as if trying to wake yourself from the trance. You find his eyelids lowered, Geralt looking at you through his lashes. 

His hand moves to cup your cheek, leading you into another kiss, less impassioned as the one before, but still as sweet and heartfelt. You have dreamt of this moment over the years, Geralt growing from a friend to lover in your heart the longer he was away. Now that he is here, you could not be happier.

“Come with me,” he says in a whisper, barely audible.

You nod, unable to stop yourself. What seemed impossible an hour ago is all falling together in a perfect puzzle.

“I will,” you sigh, a short laugh escaping your lips. “I think I love you, Geralt.”

A hum, “I think I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for taking the time to read <3


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